I was sitting in the eye clinic in Albuquerque the other day when the woman next to me launched into a scathing critique. She'd just blown in from China where, she said, "Yes, you're sitting in a waiting room with a hundred people including screaming children, but once in the presence of the doctor, unlike the physicians here, they didn't act as if they expected to be treated like gods. In contrast, she said they were quite gracious and gave their full attention and time. She added they also had state-of-the-art equipment.
I'm no judge of equipment, but the Doc barely muttered an introduction and set to. He asked a couple of questions, examined my eyes, typed FURIOUSLY at the computer, asserted that yes, I AM a candidate for a cornea transplant, answered my few questions with hardly more than monosyllabic responses, turned....and left. It was when they indicated I should follow them to the front to sign a release in order for them to obtain my Albuquerque records that I realized we were done.
An overflowing bowl of stinking peppermints graced the front counter....to encourage your diabetes.
The other conditions make it a no-brainer. I've gotta look at him like a mechanic. He's qualified and who gives a damn if he's as personable as a rock? I'm being GIVEN a place to stay, replete with beautiful art, and post-op care courtesy of her in red on the chaise.
We had to go back in to find out about the cataract. His notes indicated it was too mild to bother with. At least he'd noticed.
Factory medicine. Like filleting salmon; gotta MOVE those color TVs.
No comments:
Post a Comment